


closer

by legdabs (scvlly)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Body Shots, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, and the final straw was that insta story, gotta exorcise that collarbone kink or it'll never chill out!, this is me exposing myself online and also getting my ya yas out, this was inspired by years of ! about dan's collarbones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scvlly/pseuds/legdabs
Summary: dan posts an instagram story, and phil gets a bit posessive.yeah, it's inspired bythatinstagram story





	closer

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be a short and self-indulgent ode to dan's collarbones and then it.......grew. whoops?

Phil thinks this might just be the best bad idea he’s ever had. 

It’s not his fault, though. 

It’s Dan’s.

See, Phil had gone to the bathroom - only for a couple of minutes - to brush his teeth and moisturise, scrolling through Twitter with his free hand. He’d heard Dan talking to himself in their hotel bedroom, but thought nothing of it, because Dan so often talks to himself, even when Phil’s in the room.  


But when a notification had popped up on his phone - danielhowell has added to their Instagram story! - he was filled with a sudden curiosity. _So Dan_ hadn’t _been talking to himself._

Phil had opened the app almost immediately, watching with a strong mix of emotions as his boyfriend asked if their audience wanted a real insight into his life and what he was doing whilst sat in a hotel room at one AM. Dan’s words didn’t matter for long: Phil’s entire attention was quickly drawn by the way the warm light of his bedside lamp made his skin look almost golden, and his collarbones seem even more pronounced than usual. He couldn’t look away from how the muscles of Dan’s neck tightened and relaxed as he breathed, and how, with every word, that little strip of taught skin between his collarbones danced. 

Dan’s skin looked infuriatingly clean - no marks, no evidence of Phil - and seeing it so openly offered as such to the eyes of the internet had sparked a deep feeling of both jealousy and possessiveness in Phil that he’d not felt quite so intensely for years. 

It wasn’t like he wanted there to be proof or for anyone to _really_ know, of course, so it hardly made much sense. But this wasn’t a matter of logic; it was something more primal. Phil had never been shy about evidencing his want and marking what was his - he knew for a fact that hidden beneath the duvet were enough marks, both faded and new, across Dan’s broad chest to attest to that - but they’d always been careful to ensure they weren’t in places that anyone might see.   
  
That didn’t matter, though. Suddenly, Phil had changed his mind on the importance of caution.

He spat his toothpaste a little more aggressively than necessary and watched Dan’s story once more, before heading back into their hotel room. 

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take Phil long to come up with his idea. In fact, even before he’s back in their room, he’s already formulated a plan.

“Thought you’d fallen down the toilet,” Dan jokes, sitting up a little in bed as Phil walks in. Phil ignores him entirely, heading straight for their half-unpacked suitcases at the foot of the bed. He rummages for a moment before pulling out a t-shirt and slipping it over his head, grabbing his wallet from the side, and heading for the door. 

“Phil?” Dan sounds uncertain. “Where are you going?”

Phil pauses with his hand on the door handle, looking over at Dan for the first time since leaving the bathroom. “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” Dan repeats.

“There’s something I need,” Phil tells him. 

He leaves. 

 

* * *

 

Phil heads to the bar, though not for a moody or contemplative drink. He knows how to execute his plan, and he can only hope the bartender will be able to help him see it through.

There’s no queue, which isn’t surprising given the time; there’s a couple nursing what look like gin and tonics in a corner, and a group of younger men with mostly-finished pints around a table on the opposite side of the room. 

Phil doesn’t pay them any mind, leaning against the bar and greeting the lady behind it with what he hopes is an easy smile. 

“What can I get you?”

“Bit of a weird one, actually. Could I get, like, a small bottle of tequila, a lime, and some salt?”  
  
The woman looks at him strangely, before something like realisation dawns on her face. Phil hopes to God she doesn’t recognise him. 

“Sure,” she nods, bending to find and place a salt shaker and whole lime on the bar, along with a small knife. “We don’t have small bottles of tequila, but we have little bottles of gin. I can switch it out if you’d be willing to pay for both?”

“Fine by me,” Phil says, opening his wallet and raising an eyebrow. 

“Twenty-five,” she tells him. 

_Worth it,_ he thinks, counting out and setting the notes down beside the knife. He watches the bartender with impatience, even though she works fast to pour the gin into a glass, wash out the bottle, and fill it again with tequila.

“What do you wanna do with the gin?”  
  
“You can have it,” he smiles. “On me. For the favour.”

She winks at him as he gathers up his purchases. “Cheers. Have fun!”

Phil blushes, and hurries back towards the lifts before she can see how red his cheeks are.

 

* * *

 

“Where the fuck were you?” Dan opens the door, clad only in his white Calvins, before Phil’s knuckles even have the chance to knock.

“I told you. I had to get something.” Phil brushes past him, determined not to look at Dan until he knows he’s in control. 

“And? Why did you - shit, Phil, is that a knife?”  
  
Phil laughs, feeling himself relax into a familiarly authoritative demeanour. “Chill out, Dan. I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Why do you have a fucking knife?” Dan sounds almost hysterical, and Phil supposes he can’t blame him. He had, after all, come out of the bathroom in an unexplained huff and cryptically disappeared for twenty minutes. It’s what Dan deserves to be put through after that video, he reasons. _Some_ of what he deserves, anyway. 

Phil sets the knife, lime, salt, and tequila on the side, and turns to Dan. “Any ideas?”

Dan relaxes a little when he sees the rest of what Phil had been carrying, but he’s clearly still unsure. “It’s nearly two in the morning. Why do you want to do shots?”

“That’s a good question, Dan. I’d like to answer it with another: what the fuck was that video?”

Dan narrow his eyes. 

“You know the one,” Phil lowers his voice. “You, shirtless in bed, looking like that.”  
  
“I thought you’d like it,” Dan shrugs, now projecting nonchalance, but Phil doesn’t buy it. 

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t think about me at all, and that’s why you posted it,” Phil steps closer, and sees Dan’s foot shuffle backwards a little way. “You were thinking about how _you_ looked.”

“And what if I was?” Dan stands a little taller, but Phil sees the way he curls the fingers of one hand somewhat anxiously when Phil takes another step. 

“You weren’t,” Phil tells him, edging closer again. “You just thought you looked pretty.”

Dan’s voice is much quieter now; far more tentative. “And what’s wrong with that?”   
  
“Nothing. You _did_ look pretty, with your little silver earring and your curls,” Phil’s close enough now to reach out for Dan, and he does; taking his slim wrist between his fingers, and squeezing. “That’s not why I’m angry.”

“Then why?” Dan breathes.   
  
“Because you’re _mine_ ,” Phil tugs him closer, and Dan trips a little with the force of it. “But nobody can tell.”

“What do you mean?”

He’s so close that Phil can feel Dan’s staccato breaths against his top lip, and Phil feels rather pleased with himself for the state he’s managed to get the younger boy into with just some gentle scolding. With his free hand, he reaches towards Dan’s hip; tracing a finger up and across his stomach towards his chest. He brings it to rest beside a particularly prominent hickey, one he’d left just yesterday, on their last night in their own bed for far too many months. 

“There aren’t any of these on that neck of yours, or your collarbones.”  
  
“We never mark where they can be seen, Phil. We never have.” Dan squirms almost imperceptibly. Phil presses a little harder, and Dan’s whole body shivers. 

“I want to,” Phil lets his finger trail again, deliberately slipping it across one of Dan’s nipples, and then the other; joining up the bruises with the most indirect lines he can draw. “I want to, and I don’t care who sees.”

“We can’t,” Dan says, though it’s with little conviction when he’s so distracted by Phil’s lightly teasing touch. 

“We can,” Phil almost purrs, leaning in. “Let me?”

“Phil…” Dan tries to protest, but soon trails off when Phil’s lips brush against his neck. He does nothing but breathe against Dan’s over-sensitive skin for a long moment, before he lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips. He’s close enough that the tip brushes across Dan’s neck, and the tantalising lightness of the touch has Dan leaning closer, seeking more despite himself. 

“Okay?” Phil says against his neck, and Dan nods. 

Phil kisses the skin beneath his lips, keeping his touch light. He lets his tongue lick at it more firmly than before, parting lips to give a little suction, but nowhere near enough to leave a lasting mark. He pulls away after a minute or so of gently teasing Dan’s skin, smirking to himself when his absence is met with a whine. 

“Why’d you stop?” Dan pants. 

Phil grins. “I didn’t think you wanted me to mark your neck?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dan laughs breathily, relaxing visibly and pushing gently at Phil’s hips. “I can’t believe I’m that easy.”

“You really are,” Phil smiles at him, but he’s not put-off by Dan’s change in tone. Dan might think he’s only teasing, but Phil’s just getting started, and he closes the newly-made gap between them. “You wanna stop?”

“You mean… you weren’t just working me up?”

“No, Dan. I got the tequila for a reason.”

Dan glances at the table behind Phil in surprise, as though he’d entirely forgotten about it. Phil wouldn’t be surprised: he doesn’t have the best memory when doing anything even remotely sexual.

“You can say no,” Phil reminds him. 

“Do you think I want that?” Dan says lowly, taking Phil’s hand and slowly encouraging it towards his hips. Dan’s hand presses Phil’s against his crotch, and Phil feels he’s already half-hard.

“You’re sure?” Phil brushes their noses together, squeezing gently before taking his hand away.

Dan nods, smirking. “I’m sure we’ve got concealer somewhere.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”  
  
“Of course."  
  
Phil leans in again, this time kissing Dan on the lips. It’s gentle, with only the lightest hint of tongue; Dan’s hands find Phil’s waist as their mouths move together, stroking beneath his t-shirt and pushing it up. Dan traces his fingers over Phil’s nipples and it’s the only encouragement Phil needs to deepen their kiss; licking more insistently against Dan’s bottom lip until the other boy opens his mouth a little way. 

Dan’s always the first to use his teeth, and today is no different. They drag almost languidly against Phil’s lips, before he’s biting deeply into the lower one, tugging it away from Phil’s gums with a gentle force that sets the tone for Phil to start to move things along. He let’s Dan’s hands push further on his shirt, breaking their mouths apart for a moment to pull it over his head before Phil’s drawing him back in. His t-shirt hits something that sounds breakable before it reaches the floor, but Dan’s tongue is in his mouth, and Phil just doesn’t care.

Dan reaches for the waistband of Phil’s joggers, but Phil bats his hands away. The extra layer between them helps him feel more in control, and he’s keenly aware that Dan may or may not have a thing for being naked and surrounded by someone wearing far more clothes than himself. Instead, he presses his hips forward and into Dan’s, a move met by Dan’s low moan into his mouth, and encourages him to move backwards towards the bed. 

The backs of Dan’s knees clearly hit the edge a little sooner than he’d expected and he breaks the kiss; grasping at Phil’s arms to keep himself upright. 

“You good?” Phil laughs gently, and Dan nods, flushed.

“Make yourself comfy, okay? I’m gonna get the drink.”

Dan does; sitting before pushing himself back up the bed to sit against the pillows. When Phil turns around, he sees what might just be his favourite sight in the world: a very ruffled Dan with hooded, dark eyes, sprawled across the centre of the bed. His arms are open, palms-upwards, as though just waiting for something to hold, and his long legs are arranged so haphazardly that Phil wonders how it’s possible for them to look so inviting. Dan’s bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he watches Phil watching him, and it’s quite possible that his hips twitch inadvertently when Phil’s gaze trails to the not inconsiderable tent in his Calvins. 

Dan’s chest is flushed; deepening the bruises that already sit scattered across it. Phil’s mouth veritably waters at the thought of _finally_ allowing himself to do what he’s not been able to do since they were a lot younger, and had a lot less to lose. Phil carries his goodies from the bar to the bed with him; swinging his leg over Dan’s prone body and settling himself on his upper thighs. 

“You know where this is going, right?” Phil says gently, setting each item down on Dan’s lightly-toned stomach except for the knife, which he leaves on the duvet at a safe distance from them both. Dan jolts a little at the cold temperature of the lime and the way it rolls across his skin. 

“I think so,” he nods. “I _hope_ so.”

Phil snorts. “Probably, then. Knowing you.”

He reaches for the knife and picks up the lime, cutting into the fruit to its centre, then again, so that he can pull away a segment. With each incision, cold juice drips onto Dan’s stomach, and Phil can actually see the way his muscles tense in shock at the temperature. Smirking, Phil drops his head and laps lightly at the lime juice; managing not to cringe at its bitterness, and instead enjoying the warm firmness of Dan’s body beneath his tongue. 

Phil feels Dan’s rumbling moan and decides to spend a little longer with his stomach. His hands are still full, so his tongue is left to do all the work; dipping close to his navel then travelling up the long stretches of golden skin towards Dan’s chest. 

When he sits up, he passes Dan the knife and the rest of the lime to put on his bedside table, before reaching up towards Dan’s mouth with his fingers, covered in juice from holding the lime. Dan takes them between his lips eagerly without needing encouragement; running his tongue along their collective underside before working each finger individually. Phil feels his own eyelids drooping from the sensation of Dan’s swirling tongue, and the tight suction and teasing scrape of teeth he so knowingly uses. When Phil pulls his hand away, Dan presses a kiss to the pad of his middle finger, and relaxes back into the pillows behind his neck.

“Still okay, baby?” Phil asks, walking his wet fingers across Dan’s sternum on their way back to the salt and tequila, still sat on Dan’s stomach. 

Dan nods, so Phil shuffles forward from his thighs to sit just below his hips; feeling Dan’s cock against him. He shuffles a little in place and Dan hisses, grabbing at his hips and biting into the skin with his nails.

“Dan,” Phil says sternly, raising an eyebrow. Dan drops his hands instantly. “Good boy.”

Dan whines at that.

Phil leans forward, taking the salt, tequila, and slice of lime with him, and going straight for Dan’s mouth. The boy beneath him responds eagerly, parting his lips for Phil’s tongue. Phil feels Dan’s hips twitch beneath his and he lets himself move against him, just a little; giving him a taste of the friction he’s so desperate for. 

He doesn’t indulge Dan for long; instead, Phil trails kisses across his jaw, licking into the shell of Dan’s ear and then moving down, across the expanse of Dan’s neck. Its sensitivity is immediately evident - the long whine that Phil’s kisses alone draw from Dan’s throat would be proof enough, but Dan’s also twisting his entire upper body in a clear attempt to give Phil better access to his neck, so Phil gives him some more of what he wants. He licks a long, broad stripe from the base of Dan’s neck all the way to his jaw, before dragging his teeth, with just enough gentle pressure, all the way back down again. He can _feel_ Dan’s pitchy moan against his mouth and it’s so hot that he _has_ to hear it again, so Phil repeats the action again on the other side of his neck, and it has the desired effect.

Phil spends a little time kissing his way across Dan’s collarbones, but not too long. The tequila is cold in his hand and he’s ever-conscious of the promise that had landed him here - here, where his mouth is allowed to work its magic against Dan’s throat for the first time in years. 

Phil sits up, and tells Dan to do the same, just a little, so that the dips of his collarbones are prominent enough to hold the tequila. 

“Perfect,” Phil smiles, and drops his head to lick a long line between the base of Dan’s neck and the top of his chest. He then shakes a line of salt onto Dan’s damp skin, spreading the crystals as thinly as he can before he takes the slice of lime, reaching up towards Dan’s mouth. 

“Open,” he murmurs, and Dan does; taking the skin between his teeth so that the fleshy part of the fruit faces outwards, ready for Phil to bite into. 

Finally, he unscrews the lid of the tequila bottle, pouring it carefully into the hollow behind Dan’s collarbone. A little overflows from the dip and trails down Dan’s chest, and Phil frowns as he squirms at the way it tickles, whining around the lime, and spilling even more.

Phil chases it with his mouth, licking upwards from the base of Dan’s ribs. The alcohol burns the back of his throat, but it’s a feeling he loves; revelling in the warmth descending through his chest while he closes his mouth around Dan’s nipple, biting it lightly as he passes it by. It has Dan’s hips jolting against his, and Phil thrusts down against him forcefully to pin him to the bed. 

“Stay still this time,” Phil says firmly, once his tongue has collected all the tequila that Dan had spilled. He pours some more, and this time, it stays put. Phil drops the salt shaker onto the duvet and, after screwing the lid on, lets the tequila bottle fall beside it. 

He sits back for a moment, looking down at Dan. His posture is a little awkward as he tries to keep his clavicle as prominent as he can, but all Phil can focus on is the way his lips look, full and wide-open around the slice of lime. 

It’d take a stronger man than him to resist taking this shot for any longer than he already has, so Phil finally lets himself lean forward to follow the line of salt with his tongue. He feels Dan’s eyes on him as he moves quickly to his collarbones, lapping away the tequila and pressing his lips repeatedly to the sharp-tasting skin, even after the last of the alcohol is gone. He gets a little carried away, biting and sucking at Dan’s clavicle before he remembers the lime waiting for him between Dan’s lips, and he pulls back with a kiss to the angry-looking bruise he can already see beginning to form. 

Dan’s eyes are darker than Phil’s seen them look for a long time, but he’s too focused on his goal of the lime in his mouth to spend long thinking about that. He leans in, lips brushing against Dan’s, and bites into the bitter lime. Phil feels the juice running against his chin, and assumes it’s falling against Dan’s, too; the same flavour filling both of their mouths as he pulls away. Dan’s teeth stay buried in the skin of the lime, and Phil manages to peel away the edible part of the fruit; enjoying it despite its sharpness. He sits back a bit, and Dan spits out the skin. It’s not exactly the height of sexiness, feeling juice drying stickily against his own chin and chest, but Phil’s not complaining - not when Dan’s looking at him like he’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, and asking with a raw voice, “Can you do that again?”

Phil grins down at him. “Try to stop me.”

He works a little faster this time, cutting another slice of lime and using a little less salt, but scattering it across Dan’s other collarbone instead of the centre of his chest. He kisses Dan quickly before placing the lime in his mouth, and pouring another shot at the base of his neck.

Phil’s less gentle this time - he angles his head so that he can follow the sweep of his tongue against the salt with the graze of his bottom teeth, and he bites his way across the hollow at the base of Dan’s neck to the tequila in his opposite clavicle. He sucks against a new patch of skin after every lick of the alcohol, hearing Dan moaning around the lime in his mouth almost continuously as he works. Phil’s half expecting Dan to spit the fruit out in impatience and bring his hands to the back of his head and press him harder against his neck, but he doesn’t, and Phil eventually makes it to his mouth. 

Once again he bites into the lime - this time not pulling the centre of the fruit from its skin, but letting his teeth sink in and the juice spread across both of their tongues. He takes the fruit out of Dan’s mouth himself then presses their mouths back together, kissing the other boy deeply. The lime tastes distinctly different on Dan’s tongue, and Phil’s not sure if the tingle he feels in his fingertips is from the shots, or from just how intoxicating Dan’s mouth is as it moves against his own. 

Phil kisses his way down Dan’s neck again, fumbling for the tequila beside him. He’s too impatient to bother with salt and lime - it wasn’t as though he’d gotten to each part of the other shots fast enough for them to make a difference to the taste of the tequila, anyway - instead, pouring a steady trickle into the dip of Dan’s clavicle, and licking and sucking at its base as the drink overflows. Dan shifts beneath him, breathy whines leaving his throat non-stop. Phil doesn’t know how many shots he effectively takes - only that it’s a lot, and his throat and lips are on fire. He makes himself stop pouring and screw the lid back on, throwing the remainder of the bottle off their bed and shiftingto work on drawing another series of dark marks from Dan’s skin.

“Phil…” Dan breathes, sliding his hands into Phil’s hair and tugging gently as he applies an especially strong suction to the space between his collarbones. Phil looks up at him with dark eyes, mouth still attached, and Dan groans. “I’m… I can’t go for much longer.”

“You can’t, huh?” Phil murmurs, leaving the mark to lift himself a little way above Dan. Their hips still touch, though, and he rocks against him; feeling Dan’s fully hard cock against his, even through the layers of clothing that separate them. 

Phil smirks. “Nine years, and all I have to do is bite you? You really _are_ easy, Howell.”

“Fuck, Phil,” Dan whines when Phil’s hips don’t let up. He already sounds wrecked. “More.”

Phil hums, lifting his lower body away. Dan’s face scrunches in frustration, but smooths rapidly when Phil slides back down his body, scratching his nails lightly across his chest, and sits on his thighs once more. 

When he looks down, Dan’s exposed stomach is in his eye-line, and Phil leans in to kiss it; wondering if he might dribble a little of the tequila into the indents of Dan’s hips, where the skin dips a little between his hipbones and tight stomach, and if it would stay in place for his tongue to lap it away. The salt would, after all, make such a perfect connecting line between dan’s navel and the coarse hair that starts below the line of his hips; all that would be left would be to find somewhere to hold another slice of lime. But then, Phil’s thinks, Dan’s hips might just be too shallow for the tequila to stay put for long enough - and besides, he’s already thrown the bottle to the floor.

Instead, Phil settles for kissing his way down from Dan’s bellybutton; following his faint happy trail to the waistband of his Calvins. He continues to travel down, mouthing over the length of Dan’s clothed cock, and pausing to breathe warmly against the head. Dan groans, and from the corner of his eye, Phil sees his hands fist into the sheets. 

Phil tucks his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and pulls them away. Dan helps by shakily kicking them off his feet, and Phil settles back down, subtly rubbing his cheek against Dan’s cock as it lies hard against his stomach. He blinks innocently up at the hooded brown eyes that watch him, turning his head a little to lick a strip up from Dan’s base; a move met with a rumbling moan and a jolt of Dan’s hips. 

“I need you to stay still for me again, baby,” Phil murmurs, still maintaining eye contact. He speaks with an almost imperceptible drunken slur against Dan’s hardness, letting his lips drag lightly over the over-sensitive skin. “Can you do that?”

Dan nods, clearly incapable of speech.

“Good boy. You can put your hands in my hair, if you want.” Phil tells him, before turning his attention entirely to his cock. 

The vein that travels Dan’s length is raised and angry, so Phil follows its heat with his tongue while Dan strokes his hands into Phil’s hair; taking a moment to wrap his hand around his base before slipping his lips over the head. He doesn’t miss Dan’s sharp intake of breath or the way his hips jerk sharply, despite Phil telling him to keep still. He can hardly blame him - Dan's been on edge for so long, without any real relief - but it just wouldn’t be right to let such a disobedience to go unpunished. He squeezes a little tighter with his hand, sinks a little lower on Dan’s cock; feeling the blunt head against the back of his throat as Dan makes a guttural noise above him. 

Despite his best attempts at taking him deeper, Phil knows he doesn’t have Dan’s magical throat, but Dan’s never complained. He lifts off and spends as long as he dares suckling at the head, letting his tongue swirl around and sweep through his slit, something that never fails to bring Dan close. True to form, after a few repeated motions, Dan whines long and low, and his fingers in Phil’s hair tug sharply.

“You okay?” Phil asks as he pulls off, his voice husky from the rawness of his throat. The tequila has him more than a little buzzed and he wants nothing more than to sink back down onto Dan’s cock and tease him for as long as he’ll let him.

“Yeah, fuck,” Dan pants. “Wanna… Want you to come too. Want you up here.”

Phil can’t say no to that. He sits up, pulling away his joggers and underwear in one go and dropping them off the bed. He watches Dan watch his cock sway as he walks on his knees to position himself above him, and Dan reaches up eagerly for his lips. Phil knows tasting himself on Phil’s tongue has always been an aphrodisiac for Dan, so Phil lets him control the kiss as he drops his hips against the younger boy’s. The friction from this alone has them whining against each other. Phil hadn’t realised he was quite so far gone - only noticing now how tight the knot in his stomach is, and just how light his head feels. 

Dan breaks their kiss for a moment to wet his palm with his tongue, then slips it between them. The sheer size of his hand lets him wrap it around both of their cocks just so, and Phil feels himself edging a little closer from the heated slide of so much of Dan’s skin firmly pressed against his cock. 

Dan’s pace is fast and there’s no real technique but they’re both so close that it doesn’t matter. Dan pulls back from the kiss, pulling in as much air as he can through gritted teeth. Phil can tell he’s close, can practically feel his cock throbbing against his own, so it’s the least he can do to move his mouth once more to Dan’s neck, and suck - hard. 

He hears a high, pitchy whine push itself from Dan’s throat, feeling Dan’s hand speed up around them and finally it’s enough, and Dan’s splashing come against his own stomach, and Phil’s above him. Phil doesn’t quite fall off the edge with him, but he’s certainly close, and when Dan’s hand finally drops away from where it had been wrapped Phil and his own softening cock, Phil detaches his mouth from his neck to chase his own release.

He shuffles higher on the bed, stroking himself rapidly; more than a little tipsy from the tequila but mostly drunk on the sight of Dan sprawled beneath him, entirely spent, with his neck and collarbones dark with bruises. A few sharp tugs and he’s there, coming across Dan’s chest in long pale streaks that contrast starkly with the marks they cover; riding his high for a few glorious moments before his head feels suddenly very heavy, and he rolls away to lie beside Dan. 

“Fuck,” Dan breathes through barely parted lips, and Phil agrees silently. After a few long minutes basking in a sleepy afterglow, he feels the stickiness drying uncomfortably on his stomach, but even his eyelids, never mind his limbs, feel much too heavy to move. 

The bed shifts beside him as Dan, apparently a mind-reader, shuffles away to search for a towel. He cleans Phil first, then himself, before holding a glass to Phil’s lips. Phil manages to open his eyes, taking a long drink, before pulling away from the glass and smiling to himself.

“What?” Dan asks, but rolls his eyes when he sees where Phil’s gaze is focused - his collarbones. “Really? You’ve not given them _enough_ attention?”

Phil shakes his head and smirks.

“We’re gonna need to change your stage outfit.”

**Author's Note:**

> @legdabs on tumblr!
> 
> wow this was entirely self-indulgent and self-exposing please feel free to kinkshame my collarbone thing and The Rest Of It anytime u want xoxo
> 
> idk! if this was any good or not! i've never posted smut lol! also i just got to the point of like NEEDING to post it because i keep writing but i have exams in 2 days and i'm just... fucked lol fuck
> 
> title from nin because i hate myself :)))))
> 
> i also feel i owe it to tequila to tell it that even though it's my go-to shot, i really fucking hate it, but i love lime and salt, so i put up with how gross it is. thanks.


End file.
